


shooting stars & silver moons

by cuimhl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuimhl/pseuds/cuimhl
Summary: So the maths equation that doesn’t quite add up is: Tetsurou is good at picking up hot guys, but apparently Bokuto Koutarou is the exception. Which would either mean that Tetsurou’s skill at pickups is not to be lauded at all, which is totally out of the question, or that Bokuto does not fall within the jurisdiction of Tetsurou and, consequently, is not a Hot Guy.Which is inconceivable, because who could possibly not find Bokuto inherently attractive?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aotaru_Kimeru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aotaru_Kimeru/gifts).



> title from: for him - troye sivan feat. allday

 

The deal is this: Kuroo Tetsurou is _really good_ at picking up hot guys.

After he gets out of high school, he spends the first three months of his newfound college freedom holed up in the library like a good student, keeping up the stellar grades like conveyor belt manufacturing for Future Banker Kuroo PTY LTD, and the next two months before summer break deciding to _fuck it_.

He gets a total of two hookups in as many months, which, fine, he knows isn’t a _lot_ , but they were both hot dudes with washboard abdomens, absolute divine eye candy. In fact, he scored them just by his sultry winks and notorious bed-hair, which in turn gave him the general vibe of bed eyes and, to go with it, a total bed-ready body.

Now, however, Tetsurou is stumped. It doesn’t help that said previous hookups were engineered to forget about a certain crush - if anything, he’s just been put off FWB’s for a lifetime. Unless, of course, this crush doesn’t work out, in which case he’d reconsider.

So the maths equation that doesn’t quite add up is: Tetsurou is good at picking up hot guys, but apparently Bokuto Koutarou is the exception. Which would either mean that Tetsurou’s skill at pickups is not to be lauded at all, which is totally out of the question, or that Bokuto does not fall within the jurisdiction of Tetsurou and, consequently, is not a Hot Guy.

Which is inconceivable, because who could possibly _not_ find Bokuto inherently attractive?

“I, for one,” Kenma says unhelpfully.

" _Kenma_ , my dear friend,” Tetsurou moans at the ceiling. “If you would take one, I repeat, _one_ eye off of your games to give that BK a generous once-over, I guarantee you’ll reconsider.”

“If I take one eye off my game I’d be a chameleon,” Kenma points out, “or I’d die, and I’ve spent my whole semester on getting to this level and I’m not giving up now.”

Tetsurou glowers at him and hopes that his negative energy is distracting.

Not five minutes later, Kenma huffs a sigh, and shuts off his gameboy. Tetsurou tries very hard not to smirk triumphantly at his defeat, but it’s a lost cause.

“Look, Kuro,” he places the console to the side and pulls his knees up under his chin. “You’ve already made it abundantly clear that you’re not a prude -”

“You mean single and ready to mingle,” Tetsurou interjects.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “So you’re ready for a relationship and you both _go to the same college_ , so I cannot see what is keeping you from asking him out.”

Tetsurou shakes his head mournfully. “One does not simply ask out a bro,” he says regretfully. “If I met him for the first time at a frat party, maybe we’d be together already, but that’s just not the case.”

“You’re being a coward,” Kenma pins him with a stare. Then he pulls the console back into his lap and silence balloons between them, punctuated by the sounds of game fighting and gunshots.

Tetsurou reaches over to ruffle his hair in a mixture of affection and exasperation, before taking his leave.

  


 

 

In fact, things might have been easier if they weren’t sharing a room - Tetsurou and He Who Must Not Be Named.

But the long and short of it is that they are, however Tetsurou tries to approach the concept, and his proximity to the subject of his late-night fantasies as well as his daytime best friend is alarming and decidedly off-putting to say the least.

 

_To: Bro_

_i have a paper tonight yo_

_dont wait up_

_From: Bro_

_no bro !!!!_

_good luck bro_

 

In the library, while Tetsurou waits for the clunky college-issue laptop to start up, he brainstorms ways to pose the fateful question. Coffee dates aren’t really their kind of thing - maybe boba is, but the whole tinkering, soft indie atmosphere could be a real mood-killer.

Or maybe he’s over thinking things. Tetsurou thinks that the ideal way would be to ask Bokuto out in their usual energetic way, all brash action and impulsive adventure. It might transmit the message that he didn’t want their friendship to peter off in the face of something more daunting and infinitely, possibly, more rewarding. Which is true. One of the many reasons he likes Bokuto is because they feel comfortable enough around each other to do stupid things, to egg each other on and reach heights never before known to man.

Unless Bokuto is secretly the mushy, romcom teddy bear inside (they’ve already established that he is a plushie at heart, but so far all they’d done was gag at romcom titles together) and wants Tetsurou to be equally soft and kind when asking him out.

The laptop blinks once, twice, and the internet flickers into existence. Tetsurou sets aside all irrelevant thoughts and focuses on his paper, which is due at midnight, and which he may or may not have put off starting until three PM that very afternoon.

He’s going to need coffee.

  


 

  


As it happens, it’s not how Tetsurou _expects_ it to happen.

The morning after his paper, he wakes with a tremendous caffeine-induced headache, passed out on his bed. It’s a saturday, thank goodness - he knows this because Bokuto, too, is face-down and snoring on his side of the room, and neither of their alarms have gone off.

He’d submitted the paper in time, but at what cost? Tetsurou’s head feels like the screamo-crashing-drums combination that usually hits after a hangover. Unless he had alcohol the night before? He certainly doesn’t remember it.

Bleary-eyed, he shuffles his way to the drawers and pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste, before meandering down the hallway to the communal bathroom. Perks of being a freshman: share the fucking restroom with what feels like eight-hundred chirping parrots at ass-o’clock in the morning.

Nonetheless, he gets his business done - Kenma might have been right about him not being a prude when it came to relationships, but Tetsurou is also nothing if not hygienic. And, when sufficiently stressed, obsessively clean.

Which always leads him to wonder why he likes Bokuto, in the first place - partner in crime and general all-round cinnamon roll aside, his best friend is a total slob. A slob with a cute ass and nice thighs, given, but still a slob.

By the time he gets back into the room, Bokuto is up. Tetsurou is thankful for this; he’s learned the hard way what happens when one tries to wake up a sleeping Bokuto, and the punishments don’t stop at a throbbing head and bruised knees.

Needless to say, Bokuto has an impressive flailing action - Tetsurou figures it’d be helpful in bed, if he were trying to toss or maybe switch positions (which is totally hot, no shame in imagining at least _that_ much), but definitely not to his well-meaning roommate trying to pick up his attendance by the belt-loops and hobble them both successfully through their first year of college.

“Bokuto, my bro,” he says brightly as the shuts the door behind him.

Bokuto groans, a long and drawn-out rumble in his chest that, good lord, turns Tetsurou on like a switch. He needs to invest in some libido-dulling medication, tailored to mute the attractiveness of Bokuto Koutarou.

“Got any plans?” he yawns, when he’s finished with the groan. “I, for one, have none.”

“Ah, yeah you do,” Tetsurou frowns when he remembers. “You have a study date with me, because undergrad Chemistry has a project due in two days and we need to pass this course. Remember?”

Bokuto’s eyes snap open and he looks at Tetsurou reproachfully, gold eyes smouldering unfairly.

“Not getting out of this one.”

Bokuto slumps. “Food involved?” he asks, hope picking up the end of his question and tossing it somewhere over Tetsurou’s head, which is also where his soul is presumably floating, In Bliss.

“With food,” he promises, but all he’s thinking is _study date study date study date_.

  


 

  


Regarding his previous prejudice against coffee dates, Tetsurou must make a _minor_ adjustment. Perhaps this doesn’t count as a coffee date _specifically_ , in the sense that they’re in a small cafe with that charming cafe ambiance, but they are not drinking coffee. However, an hour into the _study date_ , Tetsurou takes a break from his note-taking and is leaning back, stretching his arms out over his head, when he catches Bokuto’s gaze across their cluttered table and knows that _it’s the moment._

The fateful one. The one that will decide his happiness from here on out, the one that will determine whether he loses a good bro or a great future husband, or if he can manage to keep his greedy hands holding fast to both.

Late morning catches in Bokuto’s hair, threading pollen between his obnoxious zebra-stripes and lending a luminant brilliance to the curve of his cheek, the sharpness of his jaw. His eyes are bright and Tetsurou drowns a little, only manages to grate out a nervous smile at the last minute to hide just how completely _gone_ he is for him.

So, the case is closed. He will be doing this today, preferably within the next twenty minutes, and preferably with Bokuto’s hand in his at the end of it.

But he can’t do this without food.

“H-hey, uh,” his throat closes up and panic slams through all of his senses at once. Deep breath. Resume. “We should, um, take a break. How about some food? I’m starving.”

Bokuto tilts his head, looking at him with that owlish confusion that is so _dreadfully_ endearing. “A break? I thought you were all gung-ho for maximising productivity in the morning.”

He notices something akin to terror in Tetsurou’s gaze and misreads it as fear for his empty stomach, so he hastily backtracks, “I mean, I’m not refusing the offer of food! I’m pretty hungry too, so food sounds good. Sounds like a plan.”

_Sounds like a plan._

For one painful moment, Tetsurou is paralysed with the thought that perhaps Bokuto has seen through him, has realised the scheming nature of this seemingly innocent offer of food, before he realises. What a total overreaction; yes, it sounds like a plan. Good idea.

Now what?

“F-food,” he gasps out, flushing. “Right, yeah. Food. I’ll, uh,” he wracks his mind - what food does Bokuto like? What is his favourite food? What food will be most helpful in reducing the number of unfavourable variables in order to restrict the possible outcomes of this momentous occasions, to isolate Bokuto’s own true feelings?

What about tempura? No one could refuse -

“Tempura-ramen, ramen,” he stammers. “R-ramen, yeah, that’s what I meant. Um. Cup ramen? The convenience store next door? How’s that sound?”

“Good,” Bokuto replies, staring at him in bewilderment. “Are you alright, Kuro?”

“Absolutely fine,” Tetsurou assures him breathlessly. “I’ll be right back.”

  


 

  


He is _not_ fine.

Tetsurou distinctly remembers Bokuto gushing over free samples of tempura, once, though Bokuto tends to gush over many things. So, where in hell’s name did ramen come from?

He paces in front of the ramen shelf, unable to decide on flavours. Spicy, so that Bokuto will be too preoccupied by the wildfire in his mouth to pay attention, and thus easily agree to Tetsurou’s confession? No, that’s just cowardly; it would be like confessing while drunk (which he should have done, he _should have done that_ , why couldn’t his life play out like a shoujo manga) and he does want Bokuto to remember this, to accept of his own volition. Given that he does accept.

Seafood is a plastic flavour for the out-of-pocket, the go-to for broke college students trying to maintain some degree of dignity by indulging in cheaply served delicacies. Lamb is probably full of additives, as is beef. Chicken? All MSG. What the hell does that leave, then?

“Fuck this,” he snarls, tearing two random cups from the shelf and storming over to the cashier. It won’t matter, in the end - if Bokuto accepts, it’ll be the fruits of Tetsurou’s own good character. If he refuses, he should just man up and come to terms with it, rather than shifting blame.

The cashier looks at him with a mixture of fear and wide-eyed wonder as she scans the two cups, before pointing to the back of the store. “Hot water is provided,” she says in a small voice, “for your convenience.”

“Thank you,” he dips his head in half-gratitude, half-apology, hurrying to avail himself of the hot water. Keeping a potential boyfriend is an awful thing to do, and _everything_ is at stake.

Should he fill his cup first, or Bokuto’s? It turns out he’s bought one beef-flavoured and one seafood-flavoured cup, so he figures he’ll keep the beef if his memory of Bokuto gushing over fishcakes and scallops is anything to go by (“it’s _Naruto_ , Kuro! It’s _Naruto,_  isn’t that _so cool_ -”). The cup filled up first will be cooler, but it might be perfectly ready to eat by the time he carries it back to the cafe. Right. He’ll do that.

Will Bokuto appreciate the care he’s putting into measuring the water? Tetsurou is doubtful, but it’s worth a try. Getting the perfect amount of ramen soup might just soften up his mushy brofriend, keyword being _might_.

Despite having overcome all the preceding obstacles, Tetsurou’s hands still shake as he tears open the flavouring packet and spills some on the floor. _Sorry_ , he mouths at the linoleum, before tipping the rest of the flavouring in.

(Wait, is that too much? How salty will it be? What if it puts Bokuto in a bad mood, given the precarious glass-construct of his emotional stability?

 _Stop it, Tetsurou._ Stop stalling, hurry it up.)

Once the first cup is filled, he turns to his own with utter carelessness and spills hot water all over his fingers, which makes him anxious - is it a bad omen? God, Kuroo Tetsurou is truly a pathetic human being. In his haste to get back to Bokuto, he crumples the emptied sachets and plastic wrapping in both hands, and unknowingly throws away the forks too.

( _Rest in peace, Tetsurou._ )

  


 

  


“You took a while, is everything fine?”

“Yes, completely,” Tetsurou smiles as he lowers the two cups onto the table, in the middle of a space cleared by Bokuto in his absence. He’s not sure if the cafe has a policy against the ingestion of food not sourced from within it itself, but it’s too late for him to care.

“Here, I think it’s been three minutes,” he pushes the seafood ramen towards Bokuto. Now, all he can hear is his heartbeat, louder than Bokuto’s snores or Kenma’s wordless irritation, louder than his own thoughts and trumped only by the infatuation he has for Bokuto that drowns out everything else. It’s this that has him lost in his own world, unable to tear his eyes away as Bokuto inspects his ramen and brightens with uninhibited delight.

“It’s perfect, Kuro!” he leans in to inhale the ramen and sighs happily. “Now, let’s dig in. Where are the forks?”

“Forks?”

Tetsurou is engulfed by a sinking feeling that ploughs down to his toes, as each passing moment surrenders no sign nor trace of forks ever having been in existence. Where are the forks? Chopsticks? What?

“I-I’ll get some from the barista,” Tetsurou is sure he’s blushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I must’ve thrown them out by accident.”

“No,” Bokuto says.

Tetsurou’s heart dies a little.

“No,” Bokuto continues, “how about we feed each other with our hands?”

(Oh, the gods which have answered his plebeian cry for the desire to exist in a shoujo manga; you have been kind!)

“I mean, that sounds fun, doesn’t it? Bro bonding time.”

(The heavens give and the heavens take, in equal measure.)

“I’m down,” Tetsurou clears his throat. “Let’s do this.”

He pinches ramen from his cup and pushes his chair back, leaning across the table even as Bokuto is tilting his head back with mouth opening in anticipation.

_Drip._

(Catastrophe.)

“My chemistry notes!”

“My hands - they’re burning! God, Bokuto, just _swallow the fucking mouthful first_ -”

“Kuro, you backstabber, I thought you were on my side! Was this your ploy all along, to have me rewrite my notes a thousand times?”

“Oh my god, Bokuto, move your ass and let me find which sheets have been soiled -”

“That sounds like we had sex, goddamnit -”

They get kicked out.

  


 

  


On a set of concrete steps, they spread out their notes to dry under the sun, and continue to eat. Or to feed each other, one being the process and the other being the ideal outcome of said process, though it doesn’t always exist in each scenario.

“My fingers,” Bokuto is doubled over with laughter, cradling his right hand which more resembles a collection of five cooling pokers, still red with the vestige of embers.

“Mine are worse!” Tetsurou splays out his fingers, offended. “If my fingers are red-hot, yours are lukewarm at best!”

Bokuto, who is just straightening again and wiping tears from his eyes, cracks up again. “Haven’t you ever heard of white-hot, you fool? Mine are a million times more painful than yours!”

Tetsurou, now laughing as well, presses his fingertips into Bokuto’s cheek and smears ramen soup all over his pale skin. “Isn’t that hot? You tell me now that it wasn’t hot!”

Instantly, Bokuto retaliates, pouncing on him with hands outstretched and pressing searing digits against Tetsurou’s skin with vicious glee. “Mine are hotter! They’re burning off, I tell you!”

“But my beef ramen isn’t even spicy, how can your fingers be hotter than mine, which have touched your mildly-spicy seafood ramen much more than you have?”

“They just are! They recognise my burning spirit and have allowed it to manifest in my fingertips, it’s a special ability! That’s why I never drop the ball ingame!”

“Yes you do, you fucking liar, I’ll call Akaashi right now and tell him what a dishonest boast you are -”

“No, oh my god, _don’t call Akaashi_ -”

Tetsurou seizes Bokuto’s sudden proximity and maximises his opportunity, stabs his fingers against Bokuto’s face and says again, “tell me that isn’t hot.”

Suddenly, Bokuto sobers.

Tetsurou falters, wonders if he’s gone too far - and then he remembers, he was going to _confess_ today, so if he’s ruined the mood now he’ll never get a chance -

“That is pretty hot,” Bokuto says.

“S-see?” Tetsurou replies, his triumph offset by his questioning tone. “Bokuto, are you okay?”

“That is pretty hot,” Bokuto repeats. “It’d be hotter up my ass, though.”

Tetsurou’s mind goes into total shutdown.

Power outage.

Blackout.

 

( _What_ )

 

Bokuto clears his throat, cards his clean hand through his hair and makes his awful hairdo stick up even more, even though it’s somehow prettier like this, far more irresistible and Tetsurou is burning up -

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, actually. I really, _really_ like you, and not in a completely platonic way. So - if you’re up for it, of course - would you go out with me?”

Pause.

“Uh, Kuro? Hello? Are you - are you alright there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or my facemask, I’m not sure which, but the point is - are you there? Did you hear what I said?”

He stirs, registers the question. “Bokuto Koutarou, _fuck you,_ ” Tetsurou bites out between gritted teeth.

Bokuto flinches back, eyes wide, “is that a no? I’m sorry if - if I presumed, I thought - no, I’m sorry -”

Tetsurou grabs a handful of his collar and doesn’t care which hand he uses, whether they’ll have to make a trip to the laundromat this evening to get the soup stain out before it becomes permanent, because they’ll be ticking off _laundry sex_ if he has it his way.

“No, shut up - listen to me, you oaf, where the hell did you find the courage for that? How long have you been thinking it? When did you realise? What made you choose that very moment, that _very important moment_ to - to confess?”

“Um,” Bokuto stares at him, “I - I don’t know? Is it a problem? Should I - should I move out? God, Akaashi always told me I was too forward for my own good, but -”

Tetsurou shuts him up with a kiss.

Another score for his shoujo manga life, but it’s as romantic as it is practical, and he’ll definitely be using it more and more often if this plays out as he would like it to. Bokuto tastes like seafood, like spice and salt and an all-consuming heat. His lips are softer than his brash personality, and their teeth knock when he breathes into Tetsurou’s mouth with a soft gasp of surprise. Swallowing it, Tetsurou presses his palms into the dip below Bokuto’s shoulders and pushes him back against the concrete, deepening the kiss. Any further and he’s going to suffocate, any deeper and he’s going to drown - but he’d like to, surrounding himself in this glorious moment and in the feeling of Bokuto’s lips against his, something he’s dreamed of for far too long.

(Though the real thing puts his dreams to shame, as romantic novels like to say.)

When he resurfaces, Bokuto is pulling back first, pupils blown and mouth redder than his fingertips, the most beautiful smile curving against his lips.

“Is that a yes?” he speaks first, out of breath, eyes sparkling. Yes, _sparkling_. Tetsurou is appalled to think his might be doing the same, but if this is what it means to be a fool for love, then he will do it. Be a fool for Bokuto Koutarou, a singular and one-in-a-million man who apparently wants him back.

“You dumbass,” Tetsurou exhales, grinning. “You’ve no idea how long I was stressing over asking _you_ , which I was going to do while we were eating, if only my plans hadn’t been derailed.”

“For real?” Bokuto laughs, and it’s a different laugh to the one they shared over ramen. It’s lighter, somehow, the breaths sweeter to inhale like spring, rather than knife-sharp and ebullient with the cadence of june carved into his bones, the way he is usually. Tetsurou likes it. Who is he kidding, he _loves_ it.

It’s _his_ , now, after all.

Distantly, Tetsurou thinks he probably looks like a picture-perfect, lovesick idiot, staring at Bokuto because he just can’t tear his eyes away. Not when what he’s wanted for so long is _here_ , and he can _take it_ , grasp both their friendship and romance in both hands because he’s the luckiest man alive.

“Dude, you’re crying.”

“What?” Tetsurou reaches up, shocked and embarrassed, swiping at his eyes only to find - they’re dry.

“You liar!” he lunges at Bokuto, who tries to dodge but it’s hampered by their position on the steps and his desire to avoid knocking over their half-finished ramen, so Tetsurou ensnares him with both palms cupping his face as he kisses him again, and again, a punch to the gut with pleasure so divine and gladdening that he could stay drunk on this feeling forever.

“I lied,” Bokuto concedes, “but you should’ve seen your face. Priceless! I like you a lot, did you know that?”

“Shut up,” Tetsurou grumbles, feeling his face heat up. “Bokuto Koutarou, you’re a goddamn sweet-talker whose charms should be put down by the Stray Owl Patrol.”

“There’s no such thing,” Bokuto grins delightedly. Then he leans in, all conspiratorial and Tetsurou is instantly enchanted, “but hey, Kuro, can you call me Koutarou?”

“K-koutarou?” he fumbles, mortified, but Bokuto grins at him with his smile at full voltage and Tetsurou _melts_.

“Koutarou,” he says again, stronger this time. “Can I feed you the rest of your ramen, you total ass?”

  


 

  


(It turns out he used his clean hand to grip Bokuto’s collar, but they both ended up getting their shirts stained in the kiss afterwards, so it’s pointless to make note of anyway.

They do make a trip to the laundromat, but that’s another story.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> uM WOW i don't really have a sense of humour...also, this is about 10 months late. still !! i had so much fun writing this in a style i'm not used to - but since this is my first bokuroo fic, please tell me if there's anything off about the characterisation/dynamic ;;;
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
